


Shave

by quillquiver



Series: Angel's First [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Shaving, Slight Domesticity, human!Cas, kind of au but not really, kind of kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillquiver/pseuds/quillquiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel doesn't enjoy shaving, Dean is hell-bent on teaching him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shave

**Author's Note:**

> First installment of the 'Angel's First' Series. Basically: Angel's First Shave. This takes place in a kind of AU. Still in Spn!Verse, but here, I’ve extended the amount of time Cas stays in the shelter, and I’ve completely scrapped everything that happens after Castiel ends up in the bunker. Here, he lives with Sam and Dean as a human. 
> 
> I'm posting this without having re-read the last bits of it, so if anybody sees any errors, please point them out! I just really wanted to post!

Castiel understood biology. He knew every system that made up the human body, every organ that formed each system, and empirically, understood each cell’s biology down to its very atoms. He knew every metabolic pathway of the human body and every other organism on the planet. Castiel knew the Earth System and every feedback mechanism that was part of it. He understood the workings of the Universe; from the building blocks of creation, to dark matter, to the planet as a whole… And beyond: to interactions between galaxies.

Castiel had dipped his wings in stardust one moment and studied the synapses between neurons the next.  

He had perspective. An academic in his ivory tower, Castiel had sorted every piece of data into a highly organized and efficient system. He recalled the days of the protozoa as well as those of the Neanderthal, and watched as the human race took its place among the list of Earth’s conquerors.

Above, things had been in clear, cut lines: all data spread out before him to objectively sift through as he observed and learned. It had been easy to grasp that humans were nothing in the grand scheme of creation; that their dirty, stinking reign over the planet was not only short, but one of suffering and blood. And yet, they were boring. Their politics, their sex, everything so predictable in its chaos that the angel had, all too soon, grown jaded at his post.

On Earth, Castiel found that those boring, clear-cut lines blurred, discombobulating him… Forcing him to question and re-evaluate the objectivity he had worked so long and hard to achieve.

After all, what use had empirical data when humans — _people_ —lived so qualitatively? Despite the fact that the planet was _vibrating_ with their stench and filth and fear, how was it that this species still marveled at stardust? Castiel admired their tenacity, their ambition… their stubbornness and never-ending search for meaning. He appreciated the good people and the bad, having been taught that one cannot exist without the other. Humans themselves were paradoxes: walking, talking contradictions, all. They said one thing and did another, their existence riddled with lies and truths that made no sense.

And on the ground, things were different.

Sometimes, the angel lamented his loss of perspective, of objectivity. These moments, though frequent, passed more quickly as it became harder to grasp the full enormity of the Universe from such a limited, corporeal form, but the loss was still felt. Things became confusing. The concept of right and wrong got muddled and twisted, and drowning in the philosophical questions that had once come so easy to the angel became a daily occurrence. Castiel found he had a hard time fully grasping the enormity of Creation. 

However, new perspective replaced the old. Useful perspective. Perspective regarding humankind. Because people…. People were so much more than contradictions or masses of biological processes. They were complex. Each unique: a piece of a larger, over-arching puzzle containing different, mis-matched pieces. And if coming to Earth had forced a new perspective, Falling had caused Castiel to rethink _again_.

Cas knew his own biology. Empirically, he knew every aspect his vessel: biology, chemistry, physicality... Castiel knew every memory burned into Jimmy Novak’s skin, pulsing electric images forever carved into his neurons. But knowing these things; knowing that capillaries bled more than normal blood vessels, or that phosphofructokinase was the most important enzyme in maintaining his body’s metabolism, was much easier to understand from an intellectual perspective than a practical standpoint... Especially when Castiel had stood in front of the mirror during his stint in the shelter, every drag of the razor breaking the skin cells he had previously thought to have known so intimately.

Castiel was quickly learning that he knew nothing intimately. Yes, his knowledge of the world was vast and detailed, but no matter how acquainted he thought he was with arachidonic acid and prostaglandins, it turned out that he hadn't truly understood the pain response until he’d felt it for himself.

He learned that shaving was a messy, painful business, and so decided not to partake in it.

Conversely, Dean had a thing about hair.

The hunter liked running his fingers through the long, silky mass that belonged to his flavour of the night; liked fisting the blonde or red or brown strands as he made love to her; worshipping her soft curves and smooth skin. He had a been with a girl that had refused to shave her armpits once, and had even liked the way she looked spread out beneath him, brown eyes only slightly lighter than the hair on her body. He liked dark locks the best, and was mesmerized by the high contrast between the strands and the colour of his own skin. Dean liked long hair.

But not on Cas. Granted, Cas’ hair wasn’t _that_ long; it was shaggy. Too shaggy. Actually, it reminded Dean of a very unkempt version of Sam’s hair circa 2005. Which- okay, on Sam, fine, the gigantor had been slowly growing out his luscious locks since they’d started hunting again. Dean had had time to adjust. Besides, Sam was a grown-ass man.

Cas was just learning to be human.

And maybe Dean could have been persuaded slowly, but the shaggy hair was accompanied by an ever-growing beard. A _beard_. Dean understood that Castiel was millions of years old, but he didn’t have to _grow a beard_ to look the part. His vessel had to be only a little older than Dean himself.

Admittedly, the hunter in question hadn’t fully understood the depth of the problem until walking by Castiel’s room, which in and of itself was nothing spectacular. Dean would sometimes find himself walking by just to the check on the blue-eyed man… Not that he necessarily needed checking on, but Dean always felt better knowing that Cas was alright. And, you know, actually in the building. As in, not flying away.

It was pretty awesome that he lived with them now.

But back to the point.

Dean had been passed by Cas’ room and saw the ex-angel splayed out on his stomach, book in hand as he turned the page, completely enthralled. This was not unusual; Castiel loved to read. In fact, with all the bookshelves in the Bunker, Dean _still_ had to go purchase a new one for the ridiculous nerd. He beat even Sam in complete geekery.

It was how the man _looked_.

Shocked, the hunter paused in his friend’s doorway, frowning as if deeply troubled when Castiel turned another page, completely oblivious. Cas had a line of three pigtails running down the middle of his head like some sort of odd mohawk. The most ridiculous one was at the top of the ex-angel’s head, and Dean briefly wondered when his life had turned into such a clusterfuck of weirdness. Because this was wacked even for _him._

I mean, add the pigtails to the beard and you had one _fucked up_ looking dinosaur-man. It was unnatural.

“Who did that to you?”

Cas looked up from his novel, looking a little annoyed at having been interrupted but replied nonetheless. “Did what?”

“The...” Dean gestured to the top of his head and Castiel frowned, shutting his book slowly as one hand moved to touch the pigtails. He smiled when his fingers brushed the hair standing on end; the ends of the dark strands felt sturdy and odd against the pads of his fingers.

Cas frowned, shutting his book slowly. “Sam… Why? Is it incorrect?”

“Is it-” Dean cut himself off, shaking his head and looking heavenward as if to ask for strength. Castiel couldn’t keep from rolling his eyes.

“My hair was getting in my eyes. Sam helped me find a solution.”

“Cas, buddy, you need a haircut. _That’s_ the solution, not this.” Making one of his strange, disgusted faces, the hunter recoiled ever so slightly, eyeing Castiel’s beard warily. “And you need to shave.”

“I believe my facial hair makes me look distinguished.”

Dean’s brows shot to his hairline. “Yeah, you’re distinguishing yourself as a creepy old dinosaur-man-girl.”

Cas frowned and Dean saw the exact moment that his comment was fully understood, because the other man deflated some, looking down at his book in a sort of rejection. The hunter bit his lip. “Look, not that I got anything wrong with the whole ‘Purgatory tour’ look making a comeback, but we passed that like… three weeks ago, dude. I mean, you’re just… You’re staring to look like Moses, okay? It’s weird. It’s damn weird. And freaking me out.”

Castiel looked up, a signature tilt to his head. “Moses kept a very short, trimmed beard, Dean.”

The hunter rolled his eyes. “Just get off your ass and follow me, okay? I’ll teach you.”

Cas didn’t budge. In fact, the man almost seemed to burrow deeper into bed. “No, thank you. I don’t enjoy shaving.” He went back to his book.

Dean frowned. “How the hell d’you know if you’ve never tried?”

Castiel shot the hunter an exasperated look. “Because I _have_ tried, Dean.”

Dean tried to ignore the slight twinge of disappointment he felt; he was supposed to teach Cas all the everyday human crap. “What? When?”

“When I stayed in the shelter,” he replied easily. “I was given a razor. It was… painful.”

Dean looked absolutely taken aback. His stance had tensed ever-so-slightly, brows furrowing as something deep burned in his eyes. Castiel, very well versed in ‘speaking Dean’ as Sam had called it, was able to recognize this look as one of intense protectiveness. His stomach felt like it dropped five feet.

“Well, fuck that,” the hunter replied fiercely. 

“Excuse me?”

“ _Fuck that_. Cas, shaving is one of the most sacred activities known to man. It’s a right of passage, it’s… It’s a friggin’ _art form_. Didn’t you see the dude’s beard from _The Hunger Games_? Or… or Tony Stark?” Stepping up to the blue-eyed man, Dean snatched the book (Paradise Lost) from Castiel’s hand and tugged his friend to the bathroom, small explosions of pleasure shooting up his arm wherever their skin touched. These feelings only intensified with the knowledge that, yes, Dean _was_ going to teach his fallen angel all the everyday human crap.

Castiel, still slightly shocked by how quickly the entire thing had escalated, stumbled along without a word.

Dean led Cas into the huge master bathroom down the hall, the one Dean himself had forbid anybody from entering because it was just too pretty to get completely destroyed by Sam’s five-hour showers or disgusting shit bombs. Besides, the room itself was _enormous_. All cream-coloured marble and fancy old taps, Dean didn’t want to have to clean it any more than he had to. Even though the shower was big enough to fit at least two, the bathtub was as large as a jacuzzi (and had a ‘jet’ function), and the overall look of the room made him feel like he’d walked into the bathroom of a Four Seasons penthouse suite.

Dean refused to admit that they were using this bathroom for Shaving 101 because this was a special occasion; this room simply had the biggest mirror in the entire Bunker.

But it was, y’know, also a special occasion. For Cas.

“Don’t move.”

While Dean left the room to get a new razor and some shaving cream, Castiel took the opportunity to observe his reflection. Strangely, the ex-angel found he didn’t posses the same innate urge of having to be constantly aware of his appearance as most humans did. Even after having fallen, Cas didn’t think to look at himself in a mirror after getting dressed or taking a shower or brushing his teeth. It just… didn’t happen.

Staring at his own reflection, however, the ex-angel wished he’d done so sooner. His ‘dinosaur spikes’ were held up by different coloured elastic bans, his eyes a bright blue in contrast with the dark facial hair.

This was him. This face, with all it's peculiarities and abilities to twist into such odd expressions, it was called Castiel. It had been called Castiel for a while now, but somehow, it felt different to _be_ human and not just occupy a vessel, no matter how empty that vessel had been. 

Taken aback by his appearance, the ex-angel made a face, eyes widening when he saw what his features contorted into. Cas had seen Sam and Dean make faces all the time and hadn’t given it a thought. Hell, _he_ made faces on a regular basis… But Castiel never knew what he looked like.

Not until now.

Sticking his tongue out, the ex-angel looked at himself curiously, moving around the muscles of his mouth to form another odd expression. The ridiculousness made of it him smile, and Castiel was made aware that he had never seen the expression on his face before. On Jimmy's face, sure, but this expression was not the same as the departed man's. It wasn't as big. He had a nice smile, though, he decided. Pleasant. Though not as nice as Dean's. Or Sam's. Perhaps he needed to practice. 

Experimentally, Cas smiled again, pulling the corners of his mouth out even wider as he observed the change in his reflection. With his eyes so wide and expression so fake, Castiel decided he looked scary. Relaxing the muscles in his face, he tried again, this time only quirking up the right corner of his mouth, lips almost completely pressed together. Relaxing again, the dark haired man suddenly contracted his facial muscles in a ridiculous manner, eyes widening as he blew air into his cheeks and flared his nostrils, eyebrows raised. Castiel's chest puffed out in complete, outrageous pride.

"What’re you doing?"

And he promptly deflated. Turning to Dean, Cas felt his face get warm, eyes wide as he stared at the hunter in the doorway, looking for all the world a child who'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. 

"Nothing."

Rolling his eyes, Dean stepped up to the mirror, looking at Castiel through his reflection. Cas was made aware that his cheeks were red underneath all the facial hair. He thought it brought out the colour of his eyes.

So did Dean.

"Can you do _this_?" The hunter turned to his friend, curling both sides of his tongue upward. 

Castiel's eyes widened and his mouth immediately fell open, tongue trying to mimic the action. Dean snorted. "Cas, dude, calm down. Look." He repeated the action slowly.

Brow furrowed, Cas mimicked him with the desired results, pink tongue pushing out from between his lips while curled appropriately. The ex-angel grinned.

"Nice," Dean nodded in approval. "Okay, shaving."

"I still don't see why this is necessary," Cas replied, eyes tearing away from the mirror to lock eyes with Dean. "Many men have much more abundant and unkempt facial hair."

"Well, good thing you're not one of them, right?" The hunter clapped his hands together, rubbing them eagerly as he wriggled his eyebrows. "Let's get that animal off your face." 

Cas frowned and opened his mouth, fully prepared to ask what Dean was talking about when the other man preemptively waved a hand. "It's an expression." 

Though his beard was not extremely long (but long enough), Dean explained that they had to trim the hair first in order to be able to shave it properly. Plugging in an electric bauble, Castiel watched with interest when as the device buzzed to life, the hunter advancing with it in hand. Cas stepped back nervously. “Seriously?” Dean asked, unimpressed.

The blue-eyed man looked at the piece of buzzing equipment wearily. “Will it hurt?”

“No. Now get your ass over here.” Castiel frowned suspiciously and Dean sighed, turning off the trimmer and putting it down before reaching forward to grasp the other man’s forearm. He tugged Cas closer, placing one hand on his shoulder. “D’you trust me?”

The ex-angel looked offended. “ _Of course_.”

Dean ignored the way his stomach flip-flopped at the raw, genuine confession and smiled, nodding in approval. “Good. So stand still and look at yourself in the mirror. I’ll start you off and then we’ll see if you can take over.”

Setting his shoulders as if going off to battle, Castiel nodded, clenching his fists as Dean turned on the trimmer again, pausing just before the blades made contact with facial hair. “Shit, this is gonna be messy. Gimme a sec.”

Grabbing a large sheet from the linen closet in the hallway (they had a _linen closet_ now), the hunter spread it out on the bathroom floor, gently pushing Castiel to step up to the mirror again. “Ready?” Dean asked, brows wriggling.

Cas swallowed thickly, setting his jaw as he nodded. Dean frowned, anger and sadness curling around uncomfortably in his gut; it must have really hurt the last time Castiel had tried this. Standing a little straighter, the hunter shifted closer to his friend, ducking ever so slightly to catch his eye. “Hey, you tell me it hurts and I’ll stop, okay? No questions asked.”

Fingers moving to grip the bottom hem of Dean’s shirt, Castiel nodded like a soldier.

And roughly ten minutes later, the ex-angel’s beard was trimmed very neatly. Dean had ended up doing it entirely, insisting that Cas held the trimmer wrong and was more likely to cut himself than use the thing properly, even though the hunter knew that was a steaming pile of class-A bullshit. Castiel was a fast learner; he could’ve handled it just fine.

But Dean wanted to take care of him. The other man had done so much for them over the years that the very least he could do was trim the guy’s facial hair. It felt like repaying a debt while simultaneously feeling _nothing_ like that.

Cas didn’t care much what Dean was feeling… He was too preoccupied with the entire ordeal as a whole. Happy that this part was painless, the blue-eyed man still couldn’t seem to get himself to relax. Perhaps it was because there was something wrong with him. Or maybe it was the fact that, on the counter, a brand new razor glinted for all the world to see, looking more like a weapon than anything else.

Despite the fact that Dean assured it wouldn’t hurt, and that if it did, they’d stop the lesson altogether, Castiel couldn’t help but prepare himself for the pain he’d surely endure in the near future.

Dean, meanwhile, was having a very hard time concentrating. Being in such close proximity to Cas would have been fine… except that, as soon as the man clued in that trimming didn’t hurt, the hand that had been gripping his t-shirt moved; long index and middle fingers hooking into one of his belt loops. Which was fine. Really. It just- it was distracting, because every so often, Cas would tug him closer… until, finally, they were almost pressed up against each other. Dean doubted that Castiel was even aware of this. In fact, the hunter assumed that this need for closeness was simply because the man was feeling anxious; during the ex-angel’s time in the Bunker, Dean had noticed that Cas was often more affectionate when he felt stressed, and as a result, completely unaware of his change in behaviour.

He was now absently thumbing the bare skin of Dean’s hip, eyes alert as he observed his reflection and completely unaware of the goosebumps that sprouted over the hunter’s skin. Dean felt his face flush as he cleared his throat. “Cas, dude, personal space.”

“Apologies.”

The hunter refused to acknowledge how much he missed the small touch the moment it was gone. Instead, he looked at his friend curiously, watching as the blue-eyed man leaned over the counter to get up close the mirror, fingers running across his jaw and down his neck. “I like this,” Castiel murmured. Dean followed the appendages almost obsessively, loathe to admit that; yeah, he liked it too.

He liked it a lot.

There was only enough hair for Cas to have that scruffy, just tumbled out of bed look that was entirely too sexy for the man’s own good. Coupled with the fact that there was still enough dark hair to make the blue of his eyes seem unreal, Castiel looked ridiculously attractive. Dean was willing to bet that if he put down the ex-angel’s longer hair and gave it a quick tousle, the dude would appear to be the epitome of ‘gorgeously sexed-up’. And if that thought hadn’t shot straight to his groin…

“Shaving cream!” Dean exclaimed, voice a slightly higher pitch. Cas frowned, pausing in the tactile exploration of his cheeks and neck before looking to his companion with a raised brow. Dean merely waved a hand. “C’mere.”

“Why can’t we keep it this way?” the ex-angel asked, shuffling back towards his friend.

“Because I’m teaching you how to shave,” Dean replied resolutely. “Besides,” he took the opportunity to run his fingers across Castiel’s cheek and down the graceful column of his neck. “This’ll take upkeep. Easier to just get rid of it all.”

Cas nodded slowly, processing the information and accepting it while trying to calm his thundering heart. It made sense. “After, when it grows back… Can I keep it the way it is right now?”

“Yeah dude, it’s your face… just upkeep.”

The blue-eyed man nodded thoughtfully, biting his lip as if he wasn’t sure about asking a question. After a moment however, Castiel took a deep breath and powered through. “Do… _you_ like this better?”

Dean almost choked on his saliva. “W-What?”

“Do you like this better?”

“Well, I mean, I-Yeah,” the hunter said quickly, ducking his head in a nod. “Yeah, you look great.”

Castiel smiled widely.

“Can we just get back to shaving now?” the hunter asked, skin flushing. Not that Dean was a prude, or a homophobe, but he’d never been completely comfortable with his sexuality. Sure, he had experimented as a kid, but those instances had been in secret; far away form Sam’s prying eyes or the judgmental gaze of his father. And as a result, Dean overly flaunted his attraction to women, understanding that belittling them, objectifying them… these were all ways in which to prove to his paternal figure that he was a man. The boys had been different. Dean had rarely let himself indulge in the male sex, sticking to suggestive glances and, only on the very odd occasion, rushed pleasure in the nearest dark alley or janitor’s closet. When Dean had started hunting on his own, he didn’t have time to get comfortable with himself, let alone explore his likes and dislikes any further. And once he’d met up with Sam, well… Dean’s normal behavioural patterns just stuck.

But ever since Castiel, things had been different.

He’d been slipping up; a lingering touch here, a glance there. Since the angel’s Fall From Grace, it had been particularly difficult. Because now, Castiel wasn’t an angel. He wasn’t a sexless being composed of sheer celestial energy. Before, when Dean had thought of him like that; when he’d remembered that Castiel was merely inhabiting a vessel, it had been easier to bury his attraction, however slight. But it was different now. Now, Cas was a man. Just a man.

A man that, despite all his efforts towards the contrary, Dean cared for _very_ much.

“Hold out your hands.”

Castiel did so immediately, exhibiting a sort of blind faith and trust Dean was certain he didn’t merit, but the hunter gave the other man some shaving cream anyway. “What is it?” Cas frowned.

Dean gave him an odd look. “Shaving cream. I thought you said you shaved at the shelter.”

“I did.” The blue-eyed man brought his palm up to his face, observing the turquoise, gel-like substance in his hands with interest. “I thought you said this was cream.”

“It is cream,” Dean muttered off-handedly as he put the canister on the counter. “Wait. You’ve never used shaving cream?”

“No. Why? Is it important?”

Dean’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Well, yeah. I mean, on top of making everything easier, it helps you not get cut as often.”

“Oh,” Cas said softly, looking at the substance in his palm. “I still don’t understand why it’s labeled as a cream.”

“Oh, right.” Taking hold of the ex-angel’s wrists, Dean forced Castiel’s palms together, grinning as the surprise on his friend’s face. “Lather.”

He did, eyes widening in amazement as the gel expanded and turned to white in his palms, the cream threatening to leak out between his fingers. “This is… phenomenal,” Cas breathed, in awe. “The ingenuity required to think up such a product is nothing short of fantastic.”

Dean couldn’t stop himself from grinning, raising an amused brow as Castiel looked at him seriously. “Dean, the human race is absolutely incredible.”

As if the compliment was directed exclusively at him, the eldest Winchester felt him flush hotly. “Yeah, I guess we’re pretty great for hairless apes, huh?”

Cas nodded in agreement, baby blues boring into those of his hunter. “You are extraordinary.”

They stared at each other for longer than necessary, a blush creeping up Dean’s neck as he cleared his throat, grunting for good measure. “Okay, let’s get you creamed up.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Dean squeezed his eyes shut. Out of all the ways he could have phrased it, he had to choose the one that gave him a striking visual of his friend creaming himself. Awesome.

“Dean, are you alright?”

“Fine,” the hunter squeaked. He coughed, lowering his voice an octave. “I mean: _fine_. Just put the stuff on your face. It needs to cover wherever you want to shave.”

Castiel looked at him oddly but followed the instructions, bringing his hands up to his face as he rubbed the cream onto the skin of his cheeks and chin and neck. When he had deemed himself finished, the ex-angel looked to his partner for approval, standing extremely still as Dean covered the spots Cas had missed. As the hunter’s fingers passed over his friend’s upper lip, Cas resisted the urge to press a kiss to his palm. There was no denying his attraction towards the eldest Winchester, nor his love for him. Castiel preferred Dean above all other humans, he always had, and he always would. That was the natural order of things.

As an angel, Castiel had expressed his feeling in glances and grand, important gestures, such as sacrifice and saving lives. These, he had felt, were the only methods open to him, and as he had never attempted to woo another being before, especially not one of the human variety, the angel had done his best to communicate the depth of his feelings. But as a human living with the object of his affections, Cas found the task of expressing his love difficult and upsetting. Because there were no more Heavenly rules now, there were no monsters breathing their necks… And on Earth, love between two human men was sometimes regarded as wrong. The last thing Castiel wanted to do was shame Dean, and so he undermined his affections, resisting the odd urges that cropped up whenever the hunter was near.

In the present, Dean was loathe to let go of the blue-eyed man, dragging his cream-covered fingers over every shave-able surface once, twice, three times, just to be sure. Accidentally, the hunter let his pinky finger brush the other man’s lips, leaving behind a small trail of white cream that the ex-angel reflexively licked away, pink tongue catching the tip of the offending appendage by mistake. Cas coughed then, making a disgusted face as Dean snorted at his misfortune, cheeks turning pink. “It tastes awful,” the blue-eyed man declared, looking at Dean like it was somehow his fault that shaving cream was not flavoured and edible.

“Smells good, though.”

Castiel nodded in agreement, eyes catching the mirror. He was suddenly mesmerized by his appearance. And in all honesty, Dean couldn’t blame the guy. The white made his eyes look an ethereal blue. Add that to the weird dinosaur thing he had going on, as well as the fact that he had a shaving cream beard, and the overall image was somewhat… Striking? Ridiculous? Adorable? All Dean knew was that he needed to strike the iron while it was hot. Wiping his hand on his t-shirt, the sandy-haired man pulled his phone from his back pocket. “Hey Cas, smile!”

The ex-angel turned to him and Dean snapped a picture. “Aw,” the eldest Winchester cooed. “Would you look at that: Angel’s First Shave.” Cas scrambled back to look at the phone screen, unfamiliar feelings of embarrassment curling and twisting in the pit of his stomach as Dean nudged him. “Ain’t he adorable.” The hunter’s grin was more gentle and affectionate than mean, but Cas felt the tips of his ears flare red all the same.

“That is a terrible picture of me.”

In all honesty, Dean thought it was a fantastic picture: Cas had just turned, his eyes were bright, he had the smallest of smiles on his face and his chin was tilted up in the prideful expression of a 5 year-old.

“Please, destroy it. ”

“No can do, man… But I can take another one.”

“Dean.”

“Cas.”

Castiel gave his friend a look and the hunter rolled his eyes. “C’mon dude, I won’t show it to anyone. ‘Sides… I like it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” His face split into a grin. “Dinosaur-Santa is a really good look for you.”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel stepped closer to his friend, pressing himself flush against Dean’s side in a way that made the other man’s mind blank. “Can you take another?”

“Yeah, sure.” The hunter tried to move away from his companion, but Cas’ arm kept him in place. Dean frowned. “Um, Cas-”

“I would like a picture with you. I understand that humans keep photographs of people they care about, and I have none of neither you nor Sam.”

Dean tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “Um, right. I mean, yeah- sure. That sounds… good.”

Cuddling closer, Castiel smiled for the camera phone as Dean wrapped an arm around his friend, grinning widely as well. “Okay,” the hunter murmured. “One, two, thr- _what the hell_?!?”

Cas had rubbed _his entire face_ against Dean’s.

Stepping back to admire his handiwork, the ex-angel plucked the smartphone from his companion’s hand for good measure, pressing every button available in the hopes that one would end up taking a picture of Dean’s priceless, shaving cream-covered face. “Dean,” Castiel murmured, so soft the hunter was sure he was being serious. “You look _so beautiful_.”

Apparently not. And apparently, the little shit was learning to let loose _in the worst way possible._ Dean shot his friend a sarcastic smile. “ _Thank you_.”

“My pleasure,” Cas grinned. He sobered a little then, wide grin turning to a soft smile. “I… was not joking about wanting to keep a picture of you, however. I have none of the people I love.”

Making a big show of it, Dean wrapped an arm around his friend, pressing the sides of their faces together as they grinned widely for the camera. Because really, he wouldn’t have been able to say no to that request even if he’d wanted to.

Dean would not only keep these pictures on his phone, but he’d make the latter his home screen.

Which was, honestly, a story for another time, because they _still_ hadn’t done what they’d set out to do: shave. So, taking the reins, Dean filled the sink with water, helped his friend cover his face in shaving cream again, and handed him the razor. Cas looked nervous. “Dude, just chill, okay? If it hurts, we’ll stop. Promise.”

Moving to stand behind him, Dean pressed himself wholly up against the ex-angel’s back in order to let the other man see his actions through the mirror in front of them. Dean told himself they were so close because he needed to be sure of his movements; it would not do well for him to cut Castiel because he was clumsy. Which was true… But also a very sound and clever excuse to press himself up against the other man in a display that would have never been otherwise permitted under his strict behavioural code. Dean’s left hand rested on Castiel’s hip, anchoring him as the hunter leaned forward to give him shaving tips and tricks, the words breathed against the shell of the ex-angel’s right ear.

Cas’ left hand migrated to rest on top of Dean’s, his right fingers moving behind to, once again, thread through the other man’s belt loops. Blue eyes were wide in the reflection, as if Castiel could not understand what was happening but was curious and amazed by it nonetheless.

Heart pounding, Dean paused the shaving process and moved his head, accidentally on purpose brushing his nose against the skin behind Cas’ ear. He licked his lips at the same time, continuing his previous instruction while a wet mouth now brushed against the ex-angel’s cartilage. Castiel closed his eyes, very obviously holding his breath.

“Cas.” The word had meant to be commanding, but Dean had only managed a breathy, only slightly gruff tone of voice, though Cas’ eyes opened regardless. He flushed, muttering an apology. The hunter looked on with nary a smile, too preoccupied with the way his left arm now seemed to be wrapped around the ex-angel’s waist rather than gripping his hip.

Needless to say, Dean was really not as aware of himself as he should have been.

“Dean?” Castiel’s voice was soft and hesitant, as if the entire situation was a bomb that could go off at any moment.

Swallowing thickly, the hunter stepped back with an awkward smile, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he held out the razor with the other, eyes widening before rinsing it in the sink and offering it to his friend again. “Sorry. Uh, you try.”

Appendage shaking ever so slightly, Cas took the object, leaning towards the mirror as he mimicked Dean’s previous action, dragging the razor over his skin before rinsing the object off in the sink. Looking to Dean immediately after for approval, the hunter gave him thumbs up and a grin. The tension in Castiel’s shoulders eased some, his body relaxing even more when the blue-eyed man realized he had not been harmed thus far. Feeling more confident, the ex-angel made to shave the area between his chin and bottom lip, tingles shooting up his spine when Dean touched the small of his back deliberately. “Wait. Not like that.” That _was_ commanding, and Cas stopped in his tracks, brow furrowing as curiosity won out over tingling sensations.

“Why?”

“You wanna cut yourself? Be my guest.” The hunter made a grand sweeping gesture and watched as Cas shook his head, if somewhat spastically. The poor guy had blanched a bit, and Dean couldn’t stop the anger from curling in his stomach. Had nobody bothered to help with this in the shelter? Had nobody seen the fallen angel hurting and stopped to assist him? Obviously not.

“Watch me.” Dean pushed his tongue against the back of his bottom lip, creating a smooth surface for the razor. Castiel did the same, looking at himself in the mirror for a moment before sliding his tongue back to where it belonged. He turned to Dean.

“I feel foolish.”

“Says the guy who was making faces in the mirror before. This isn’t a beauty contest, Cas. Nobody cares if you look like a crazed dinosaur-girl-child.”

The ex-angel huffed some, but shaved the surface anyway. When he had dragged the razor over that area in the shelter, his skin had torn horribly, leaving a stubbly scab that had been painful for days. Cas had learned that soap makes a cut sting, as do different types of food. He had been extra careful while eating in the mess hall that night… Not to mention the droplets of red that had fallen onto his shirt had stained the light blue material horribly. Castiel had tried to stop the bleeding with his fingers and water, before smartening up and using toilet paper. It hadn’t been fun.

So to shave the spot so painlessly, so _effortlessly,_ and without having to drag the razor over his skin another handful of times, the ex-angel felt accomplished. Proud. Like he had vanquished something _truly evil_. Cas released a relieved breath, looking to his mentor with the smallest, sweetest, proudest smile Dean had ever seen. Unable to stop himself, the hunter grinned back goofily, body language reacting to his fallen angel’s expression as he relaxed and leaned towards the other man, nudging him encouragingly. “Good,” Dean praised, hoping his voice didn’t sound as stupidly prideful as he felt.

Castiel proved to be a very quick study. Not that shaving was particularly difficult, but the ex-angel made quick work of the rest of his face, making all the appropriate faces perfectly. Once, Cas got so caught up in his odd appearance that he experimented with his face muscles himself, completely mesmerized by how diverse the realm of human expression was. And how outrageous.

Dean watched on, more curious than anything else. That is, until, Castiel ingested some errant shaving cream by accident. The guy’s face puckered, his mouth opening as he coughed and spit and dragged his shirtsleeve over his tongue. His hair was as dinosaur-looking as ever and his face was covered in excess shaving cream, arms and hands were getting the white stuff all over his face in the effort to rid the taste from his mouth. Cas shook his head roughly, stopping dead in his tracks when he heard a snort.

Dean was almost pissing himself laughing.

Castiel flushed hotly, the tips of his ears bright red as he opened one eye and then the other. His friend has doubled over, shaking silently with laughter before he reared up again, smiling widely as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Cas, dude…”

And suddenly, the fallen angel wasn’t so shy anymore. He grinned back at his friend, but a real grin, one that stretched across his face. The expression was foreign, but he enjoyed seeing Dean laugh… Even if it was at his own expense. Dean didn’t laugh enough.

Grinning widely, the hunter stepped up to his blue-eyed protégé, wiping some shaving cream from Cas’ forehead fondly. The ex-angel, spurred on by the light in his friend’s eyes, made another face, crossing his eyes and ticking out his tongue while sucking in his nostrils. Dean laughed again, the sound deep and joyful in his chest. Castiel felt a breath whoosh out of him and he grinned widely, cheeks turning pink when the hunter tipped forward, foreheads touching for a brief moment before he pulled back, breathing out a chuckle. Cas felt the same breathy sound pass his lips, eyes bright as Dean’s hands clasped his shoulders. The sandy-haired man was catching his breath when his right hand slid upward, cupping the other man’s neck. Dean smiled, eyes communicating his thanks better than any of clumsy words could.

Cas tipped his head microscopically, full-fledged smile fading into a soft grin.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

In what felt like no time, Castiel was looking at his beardless reflection, touching the smooth skin of his face as if it was something new. It felt new. The fallen angel had not felt the bare skin of his cheeks in what seemed like eons. The corners of his mouth quirked up ever so slightly as he turned to Dean. “Is this satisfactory?”

The hunter shrugged, stepping up to his friend as he inspected his face, fingers soon moving to tip Castiel’s head upward, exposing the column of his neck. Dean ducked a little, fingers touching the newly shaved flesh lightly before his hands were at Cas’ waist, pushing him backwards until he bumped against the counter. “Sit up there,” Dean told the blue-eyed man, “I can’t see from where I’m standing… Not enough light.”

Which was utter horseshit. Dean could see just fine, and Cas had done a perfect job… But the hunter couldn’t stop himself from pretending. Fantasizing. It would have been nice to kiss the fallen angel here; Castiel was only a mite taller, and Dean could comfortably place his hands on the other man’s jean-covered thighs. With ever ounce of control he possessed, Dean nudged Cas’ knees apart, stepping in between them as the ex-angel looked at him curiously, posture relaxed and comfortable.

Dean really didn’t think he deserved that kind of trust.

He went with it though; inspecting Cas’ cheeks and chin, thumb absently swiping over a slightly chapped bottom lip. Castiel’s eyes remained on him the entire time, intrigued and inquisitive as Dean’s fingers moved downward, brushing along the skin of his neck. Cas’ heart was hammering in his chest, and he briefly wondered if Dean’s was, too.

Dean’s was, too.

The hunter was better versed in controlling himself, however, and so his breath stayed relatively constant. He stepped further into the counter, letting one nervous, slightly trembling hand rest on Cas’ left thigh as his other continued the inspection. When Dean felt he could no longer indulge without it becoming monumentally and unacceptably obvious he was really just feeling up his best friend, the hunter stepped back, reaching for the bottle of aftershave to his right and putting some of it on his hands.

“What’s that?” Cas asked, looking down at Dean’s palms.

“Aftershave. C’mere.”

Castiel leaned forward ever so slightly, enthralled with the entire ritual of shaving, but this part especially. “Why aftershave?”

“Moisturizes your skin,” Dean shrugged. “And it makes you smell good.”

Cas paused, a very familiar and comfortable smell wafting into his nostrils. His brows knitted, almost confused. “It smells like _you_.”

“That’s what I said: _Makes you smell good_.”

Castiel was very still as Dean’s hands cupped his cheeks, massaging the oil into the fallen angel’s skin slowly. Again, when Dean felt he could not longer continue touching without feeling weird, he retracted his hands, unable to stop himself from leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Cas’ pulse point. Castiel’s breathing hitched and Dean pulled back as if he was on fire, unable to hide from the ever curious and questioning blue gaze. “There you go,” Dean said, altogether too loud and clumsy in the space they were sharing. “Good as new. Done. _Finito_.” His smile was altogether too big and fake. Cas hated it.

“Is my appearance pleasing?”

Dean stopped trying to tactfully stumble away and seriously considered the question, reaching forward with a small shake to his head. Pulling the three elastics from Castiel’s dark hair, Dean carded his fingers through the strands before ruffling it. There. Now Cas had that effortlessly gorgeous sexed-up look. “Yeah,” Dean nodded in response to the original question. “Now, um, now you look good. Great. Awesome.” The hunter almost tripped over his own feet trying to get out of the bathroom. Blood was rushing in his ears and his heart pounded wildly in his chest, face and neck flushing deeply.

Cas watched him go feeling completely overwhelmed and bewildered. His fingers moved up to touch his pulse point of their own accord, brushing the skin softly, thoughtfully. He was in absolute awe of the small, phantom tingles he could still feel on his skin and looked to the doorway fondly. Dean had literally almost face-planted in his embarrassed haste to exit the bathroom, and for some reason, that thought made the biggest, most wonderfully bashful and happy smile break across Castiel’s face.

Sliding off the counter, Cas let his fingers fall from the place Dean had kissed and turned to look at his flushed skin, blue eyes and wild, dark hair. He grinned, unable to stop from touching his neck again, graceful appendages lightly brushing his pulse point as Castiel let slip a happy little hum.

Turning on his heel, he practically bounded out of the bathroom.


End file.
